


Face to Face

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Comment Fic 2017 [69]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 23:19:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12518892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, an accident with Ancient tech gives Rodney the ability to change the way he looks."





	Face to Face

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brumeier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/gifts).



Everyone thought the machine had had no effect, because Rodney wasn’t as strong a Gene carrier as John, and because he’d come up clean on his post-mission physical with Carson. John had reached for it, it’d started to glow, Rodney had pushed him out of the way, light had flared, and then - nothing.

Not nothing, though.

Just nothing Rodney told anyone about.

He could shapeshift. Not into animals or things. But other people. It had happened one day when he was getting out of the bath. He’d wondered what it would be like, to be tall like Ronon, and suddenly he _was_ Ronon, or rather, Ronon was staring at him in the mirror. Rodney was still _himself_ inside. But he looked just like Ronon.

Like _all_ of Ronon, he suspected, when he peeked underneath his towel.

He’d panicked, flailed around, stumbled a bit because Ronon’s center of gravity was different. But his voice came out differently, too. Came out Ronon’s.

And then he’d changed back.

Just like that.

No pain. Just - a weird fuzzy moment, when he didn’t know anything, didn’t feel anything or see anything or _sense_ anything, and he was himself.

Because Rodney was a scientist, he experimented with it some more. Tried John, and Zelenka, and Parrish. Didn’t work on Stackhouse, Markham, or Grodin. Because they were dead? But it didn’t work on Toriel or Dorsey either.

It worked on Cadman. And on Katie Brown. And Kate Heightmeyer. Even Elizabeth and Teyla (he didn’t keep those forms for too long, because...awkward.)

But it didn’t work on that female gate tech, or any of the female Marines besides Cadman.

And then one day it worked on Sergeant Mehra, and Rodney realized. If he made physical contact with someone, skin-to-skin, even as brief as a handshake, he could turn into them.

Given that they’d found the device in an abandoned Ancient military outpost, it made sense. The machine was for some kind of espionage.

So Rodney started going to hand-to-hand with the Marines once in a while, and being nicer, shaking hands with staff, and he could be anyone he wanted.

But what use was such a skill for him?

...Could he turn into a Wraith? Did he even want to try?

Rodney didn’t tell anyone, but he wanted to. He might or might not have spent an educational afternoon alone in his quarters after trying Nurse Marie on for size, and then he felt so awful afterward that he couldn’t look her in the eye for a week.

John would understand, right? Maybe he’d even want to try the device for himself. John was super badass, as evidenced by the time he took on a Genii strike force pretty much on his own (with Rodney’s capable assistance, of course).

Would Rodney have to explain to John that he’d tried John’s form out?

If Rodney told John that, would John figure it out, how Rodney felt about him?

And then Rodney wondered. Who did John like? Who was John attracted to?

For days, Rodney studied John, watched who he watched, wondered. Alien women seemed to like John. Chaya had been dark-skinned, dark-haired, pretty. Like Teyla. But John would never cross a line with Teyla. Would he? That Princess Mara person had been blonde, though. Rodney was pretty sure that the woman from the Time Dilation Village had also been brunette. And that sexy space pirate lady, she’d also been a brunette.

Who on the Expedition was brunette, did John’s gaze linger on?

Rodney watched and wondered, but he couldn’t figure it out.

As it turned out, even if Rodney could borrow someone else’s body, he didn’t inherit their skills. Being Ronon didn’t give him Ronon’s physical prowess. Being Cadman didn’t give him her running stamina. Being Zelenka didn’t help him understand Czech (though at this point he was pretty sure he knew most Czech swear words and curses).

Major Lorne’s form was nice. He was trim, physically fit, but about the same height as Rodney, so Rodney wasn’t stumbling like a newborn colt whenever he tried to walk around in Lorne’s body.

When Rodney was in someone else’s body, though, he wasn’t allergic to citrus.

Since Lorne oversaw the kitchen Marines, they gave him free samples of delicious things all the time. When Rodney wanted to try the little lemon meringue pies (the first time he’d done it, he’d had his epi pen to hand), he took Lorne’s form, ducked into the kitchen, smiled, and escaped with a tray full of treats.

It was perfect.

After a particularly harrowing day at the lab, Rodney sneaked into the kitchens for a treat.

He was on the way to his secret hiding spot - a fairly isolated balcony just on the edge of the inhabited section of the city - when he ran into John.

“Major Lorne.”

Dammit. Rodney would sound like Lorne in voice only. He didn’t magically know how to _be_ Lorne. He swallowed hard. “Yes, sir?”

“Walk with me.” John headed for the nearest transporter.

Rodney fell into step beside him and desperately hoped they didn’t run into the real Lorne. “Yes, sir.”

In the transporter, John selected coordinates for an uninhabited section of the city that hadn’t been rated _safe_ so much as _not immediately dangerous_ , and when they got there, he headed for a balcony. Rodney had never been here before, but John obviously had.

As soon as they were on the balcony, John sank against the railing. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

“Do what, sir?” How often was Rodney supposed to say _sir?_ He’d have to listen to Lorne more often when he was talking to John.

“You can drop the _sir,_ Evan. We’re alone now.”

Evan? Was that Lorne’s first name. Rodney swallowed hard. “Right. Um, pie?” He held out one of the little lemon meringues.

John accepted it. “Thanks.”

“So...what is it you can’t do much longer?”

“Work with Rodney.”

Rodney’s throat closed. “What makes you say that?”

“He keeps _looking_ at me.” John scrubbed a hand over his face.

Dammit. John had noticed. Was it irritating him? Surely John wasn’t so childish as to be irritated by the mere fact of Rodney looking at him.

“Why is that bad?” Rodney was pleased when his voice came out steady.

“I think he knows,” John said. “Either he knows or suspects and is close to figuring it out, and - after what went down with Holland, I can’t -”

“Can’t what?”

“You know what I mean. You’re still all messed up over Jonas Quinn.”

Jonas Quinn. The alien who’d served on SG-1 as a second-string Daniel Jackson for a year? Rodney nodded cautiously, though he had no idea what John meant.

“So, what do I do?” John asked.

Rodney blinked at him.

John rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me say it. That’s the whole point of this arrangement. You’re the sensitive artist and I’m the stereotypical pilot dude bro who can’t talk about his feelings.”

Given Lorne’s unending sarcasm, Rodney wouldn’t have pegged the man as either an artist or sensitive. He had to say something, or John would know something was up.

“Sorry. I guess today I don’t have a lot of words myself.”

“Fair enough,” John said. He bit into the little lemon meringue pie-tart-thing, and so Rodney ate his, both of them in unexpectedly comfortable silence.

John finished his first, dusted the crumbs off his hands, glanced at his watch. “Well, coffee break’s almost over. One for the road?”

There was no coffee to hand. One what for the road? But Rodney said, “Sure.”

John grabbed Rodney’s shirt (would he notice that Lorne was wearing the wrong color shirt?) and hauled him in.

Kissed him.

It was everything Rodney had ever dreamed of and more. John’s lips were soft and warm. When he flicked his tongue against Rodney’s, Rodney shivered from head to toe.

Then John was lowering him to the balcony floor and crawling on top of him, and Rodney went with it, damn the consequences.

Till it was done and they lay side-by-side, clothes mussed, spent, breathing hard, and John said, “Damn, Evan. Just _damn.”_

And Rodney remembered. John hadn’t done that with him. He’d done it with Lorne.

Apparently he’d been doing it with Lorne for a while.

Rodney fumbled his clothes back into place, sat up. “Sorry. Call just came over the radio. Gotta go.”

“Sure thing,” John said. “Right behind you.”

Rodney fled.

He didn’t turn into Lorne for two weeks after that, didn’t turn into anyone. Did his best not to stare at John too much, too, because apparently that drove him straight into Lorne’s arms.

And then one day he turned back into Lorne, stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. What did Lorne have that he didn’t? They both had blue eyes, brown hair. Were the same height. Sure, Lorne was a soldier and Rodney was a scientist. And okay, Lorne had dimples. Dimples were cute.

Rodney borrowed some female forms and skulked around the Lady Marines, the Lady Scientists, the Lady Air Force Officers, and made casual inquiries about Lorne.

They all thought he was attractive, on one level or another. Some said _cute._ Others said _handsome._ More than a few said _hot._ They all agreed he wasn’t ugly. More than one of them had heard rumors that he was fantastic in the sack. An artist, right? Sensitive. Good with his hands.

Did any of them think he was gay?

No. Not possible, not with the tales told around the SGC. Bi, maybe. An artist was open-minded, right? Free-thinking.

Who would he look hot with, out of the men in the expedition?

Ronon, for sure. There was some talk of something called a _size kink_ that Rodney didn’t really want to know more about. Lorne kinda had something going with Zelenka, didn’t he? It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Parrish had a super huge crush on him.

Sheppard and Lorne, though. Tickets to _that_ show would sell out in a heartbeat.

If only they knew.

Rodney knew. He couldn’t un-know.

So he waited till he knew Lorne was busy on the opposite side of the city, and he assumed Lorne’s form, and he went and found John in the command office. He made sure to wear a black t-shirt.

Rodney stood in the doorway in that respectful stance Lorne always took before John addressed him. “Sir?”

John looked up from his datapad. “Major?”

“Feel like a coffee break?”

“Actually - yeah. I could use one.” John powered down his datapad, stood up.

They walked to the transporter, and this time Rodney input the coordinates to that uninhabited section of the city. They were burned into his memory, as was the route to the balcony.

There were no words this time, just John pinning Rodney (Lorne) to the balcony and kissing him breathless.

Afterward, Rodney felt elated - and sick with guilt.

That didn’t stop him from doing it again a few days later.

And a few days after that.

And a few days after that.

And the day after that.

Rodney never did figure out why him looking at John had bothered him, or who Holland was or what had gone down with him, or what had gone on between Lorne and Jonas Quinn (though he could guess whatever it was, it had ended badly). But Rodney did learn how John tasted, how he kissed, what he liked in bed (or, rather, on the balcony floor).

They hadn’t gone all the way, but Rodney was pretty sure Lorne and John had done that before, if some of the dirty promises John made in the heat of the moment were any indication, so one day Rodney showed up at the military command office prepared (condoms and lube in one pocket).

“Sir?”

John had definitely been playing solitaire on his laptop. “Major?”

“Coffee break?”

John closed his laptop, stood.

And then Rodney’s radio crackled.

“Major Lorne for senior command. There’s been an incident. You’re needed in the jumper bay immediately.”

John froze. All the air sucked out of Rodney’s lungs. Oh no oh no oh no oh no -

John tapped his radio. “Go again, Lorne?”

“Incident in the jumper bay, sir. It requires a disciplinary decision by senior command.”

“I’ve got an incident myself,” John said. “Teyla, you go get started. I’ll be there when I can.”

“Of course, John,” Teyla said.

“I’m on my way,” Elizabeth said.

John muted the microphone on his radio. “Who are you?” he demanded.

The office door slid shut behind Rodney. He heard the secondary click that meant it was locked.

Major Lorne said, “We’ll probably need Dr. McKay as well.”

Realization lit in John’s eyes. All the color drained out of his face. _“Rodney?_ What? How?”

“That Ancient device, on MX7-343.”

“The one you pushed me away from? But it didn’t do anything.”

“It did.”

John shook his head, took a step back. “Turn it off. Stop it. Whatever.”

Rodney closed his eyes, felt that strange buzz, that blank. And then he was himself.

Major Lorne said, over the radio, “Can I get a twenty on Dr. McKay?”

John wrenched his radio away from his ear, set it down on his desk.

Rodney turned his radio off slowly, not wanting to startle John with any sudden moves.

John’s breathing was quick and shallow. “How long?” he demanded.

“Well, I figured it out after the mission,” Rodney said. “Had to do a bit of experimenting. It only works on people I’ve had skin-to-skin contact with since I was affected by the machine. Something as simple as a handshake will do the trick, gender is irrelevant, and it doesn’t matter whether the person is dead or alive so long as I had contact with them while they were still alive -”

_“How long?”_

“That day. On the balcony. With the little lemon meringue pies.”

John swayed back like he’d had a sudden dizzy spell. “Lemon meringue? But you’re -”

“Lorne isn’t.” Rodney looked away.

He could feel John staring at him, though.

Finally, John said, “Why?”

“Because - because I wanted it. Wanted _you._ But you obviously never wanted me. You never even _told_ me you _could_ want -” Rodney shook his head. He gestured to himself. “I get it. I don’t look like him. I’ve heard the talk. He’s attractive. Apparently fantastic in bed no matter a person’s gender. When would _I_ ever have a chance?”

John burst out laughing, though he sounded a little hysterical. “Didn’t you listen to a thing I said on the balcony that day?”

“You didn’t _say_ anything,” Rodney protested.

“I - yeah. I guess not. Because Evan already knows.” John closed his eyes for a moment.

Rodney reached out, swiped a hand over the door lock. “I’m sorry. I’ll just - go. I’ll tell Elizabeth to assign me to a different team.”

“Rodney,” John said, reached for him.

The door unlocked, slid open.

Rodney ducked out. He tapped his radio. “What’s going on, Major Lorne?”

Kittens were what was going on. Pegasus-equivalent kittens. Someone had found them on an alien planet and brought them back to Atlantis. That certain someone _had_ kept the creatures quarantined while he researched them in the Ancient database and talked to Ronon and Teyla about them. But then they’d been bred and bartered away as pets.

And now people - including big hulking Marines - were too attached to the little mongrels to give them back.

Discipline was swift and sure. Offworld privileges suspended indefinitely pending further review. Assignment to inane busywork, like counting supplies in the storeroom and cataloging junk found on city exploration missions. Reassignment back to Earth on the _Daedalus_ when it next arrived.

Since the primary offender was a scientist, most of the issue was resolved once Rodney showed up. Discipline was meted out to anyone else who’d acquired an illicit pet, but Elizabeth was too soft-hearted to order the things bundled into a bag and thrown into a river offworld, so people were allowed to keep them.

Everything was resolved before John arrived.

After that, it was easy to avoid John. Rodney informed Elizabeth that he was resigning his place on John’s team, that having the Chief Science Officer on a gate team was a dangerous risk. He sent Zelenka in his place. No, Zelenka didn’t have the gene, and Rodney would never admit it in his earshot, but Zelenka was intelligent and competent under pressure. He’d do fine.

Of course, if Rodney avoided John, he had to avoid Teyla and Ronon too, because neither of them understood why he’d quit the team, why he no longer ate with them, or why John’s expression went carefully blank and professional whenever he and Rodney had to interact in person.

Rodney wasn’t sure what, if anything, John had said to Major Lorne, but he didn’t treat Rodney any differently than usual, was calm and professional and occasionally sarcastic like before.

The easiest way to avoid John was to not be himself. Rodney roamed the city, borrowing faces and forms so he’d be left in peace, only bothering with his own face when Dr. McKay, CSO was needed, or when he was asleep. More than once Rodney was tempted to pick a different, friendlier form and chat with Ronon or Teyla, because he missed them. Sometimes he turned into Dr. Biro and chatted with Carson.

Rodney had made his apology. John must have accepted it, because he didn’t go to Elizabeth about it (but then how could he?) or Carson or Heightmeyer. But John didn’t want to be friends anymore either, because he never sought Rodney out. Interacted with him as necessary for the Expedition, then went on his way, like they were strangers.

Whatever friendship they’d had was over.

Rodney learned things about his fellow Expedition members, their skills and hobbies, talents and preferences.

Dr. Lindsay played the piano, so Rodney could borrow her form and the communal keyboard and set up in an empty room by himself, rekindle the music from his youth that he’d sworn he’d never touch again.

“Humans are never truly random, you know.”

Rodney yanked his hands off the keys before he spoiled the chord.

John leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

“What are you doing here?” Rodney asked.

“Looking for you. You’re a hard man to find.”

“I’m sorry, Colonel Sheppard, I don’t know what you -”

“Humans are creatures of habit. Took me a while, but I finally mapped it out. Don’t know if you realize it, but there’s an algorithm to whose form you take, and when.” John held up a piece of paper. “Here, in a nutshell, is how Rodney McKay runs away.”

The game was up. Rodney resumed his own form.

“What do you want?”

“We never really got to talk.”

“We said everything that needed to be said in your office that day.”

“Did we? You did a whole lot of talking. I didn’t get to say much.”

“You didn’t have to.”

John raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure? Because I don’t think you understand what happened at all.”

Rodney wasn’t one to deny his own faults or weaknesses, not when it really mattered. He’d learned his lesson, with Arcturus, with so many other things. “I deceived you and seduced you and now we’re no longer teammates, let alone friends. What I did was wrong and terrible and unforgivable. But I’m too brilliant to be cast aside, so I’m staying on Atlantis. The city is big enough for the two of us. We can be professional and set aside our differences for the good of the Expedition.”

John sighed. “No, that’s not what happened.”

“You said you couldn’t handle being on a team with me anymore anyway.”

“Yes, I said that - because I was afraid you’d figured out that I’m in love with you.”

Rodney stared at him. _“What?”_

John held his gaze.

Rodney’s world started to spin out of control. “But you - with Lorne -”

“He was the only one who knew, who I could tell,” John said quietly. “I couldn’t have you, he couldn’t have who he wanted, but we could have each other.”

“What made you think you couldn’t have me?” Rodney asked.

John arched an eyebrow. “Oh, I don’t know, the way you always pant after Colonel Carter? Or how you wanted to bag Athosian babes right after we rescued them? Or how you got all excited when that archaeologist on Dagan had a crush on you? Or maybe when you tried to date Katie Brown? Or -”

“Yes, fine, I swing both ways, but I wasn’t about to advertise my bisexuality in a contained space with a bunch of American Marines!”

“You wouldn’t have lost your place on Atlantis, your entire career,” John said quietly. “If I’d dared tell anyone but Lorne, they’d have stripped me of my wings and tossed me out on my ear. I’d never see you again.”

“Why Lorne?” Why not Rodney? Surely John had always known Rodney was far more open-minded than his American counterparts, with their old-fashioned bigotry and -

“Ran into each other at a certain type of bar one time. He’d never tell. He has as much to lose as I do. More. People back home depend on him. No one on Earth depends on me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Like I said, you’re a hard man to find. Obviously you didn’t want to talk. You needed time.” John looked away for a moment. Then he took a deep breath. “And I needed time. To figure out what to say.”

“And you’re saying you want...me.”

John nodded.

“Why?”

“Because - you’re my best friend. You’re a genius. You’re brave. You’ve _saved my life.”_

“Teyla’s saved your life. So has Ronon. So has Lorne -”

“None of them are _you.”_

Rodney’s heart was pounding. “You could have anyone you want on the Expedition.”

“I don’t want anyone, Rodney. I want _you.”_

“But - so many people are better-looking than me.” Rodney flipped through all the faces he knew, the most beautiful people on Atlantis, Teyla and Ronon and that one brunette botanist, Elizabeth and that one doctor Jennifer Something, some of the Lady Marines including Cadman. Lorne.

John was across the room in an instant. “Stop it.”

Rodney was jolted back into his own form.

John reached out, cupped his hands around Rodney’s face. “You’re beautiful, Rodney McKay. When I say I want _you,_ I mean all of you.”

Rodney closed his eyes. No one had ever said that to him before, and he had no reason to believe it now.

“Rodney,” John whispered, “please look at me.”

Rodney swallowed hard, shook his head.

John sighed. He leaned in, brushed his lips over Rodney’s, and then he was gone.

Rodney didn’t change forms after that. But he still avoided John, John who was seemingly everywhere and always looking at him and no wonder Rodney’s staring at him had driven him insane.

Rodney hadn’t expected Major Lorne to corner him.

“John knew it was you,” Lorne said. He sat down opposite Rodney in the mess hall with a tray of food, cool and casual. But he kept his voice low, and he locked his ankle around the leg of Rodney’s chair when Rodney tried to push it back and leave.

“Or at least - he knew it wasn’t me. He’s always wanted it to be you.”

Rodney cleared his throat. “Major -”

“Whatever this thing is you can do, with your shapeshifting? Doesn’t include tattoos.”

Rodney had noticed that, about Ronon. And then the full implication of Lorne’s statement hit him. _“You -?”_

“I get it,” Lorne said. “I really do. I mean - you and I got off to a rocky start, but I respect your intellect and your courage. We may never be friends, but I do respect you. _And_ I totally get where John is coming from. You’re pretty damn sexy, Doc.”

“Don’t make fun of me -”

Lorne leaned in. “He’s in love with you. You’re in love with him.”

There was no point in denying it. “That’s none of your business -”

“You’re on the same planet at the same time. It’s the two of you against the Wraith,” Lorne continued, his voice relentlessly soft. “Do you know what I’d give, to be on the same planet, in the same _galaxy_ as the man I love? To not have the entire Ori empire between us? To just know he’s even alive?”

Jonas Quinn had been on SG-1 for a year while Jackson was gone, Ascended. He’d left when Jackson returned.

Was this what John had meant, when he’d said Lorne was a sensitive artist?

“You flung yourself into animate alien darkness. You let Acastus Kolya torture you. You fought off a feral Wraith with just a pistol, nearly OD’d on Wraith enzyme to save your team, survived almost drowning in a jumper, helped John retake Atlantis. And you never had any military training the first time you stepped through a gate. You can do all that, but you can’t give you and John a chance?”

“That’s different,” Rodney said.

“How?”

“It’s -”

“You could have died.”

Rodney hadn’t exactly been living, since that fateful moment in John’s office, when he figured out what Rodney had been up to. But he scanned the mess hall, and he saw John sitting with Teyla and Ronon.

And he realized - John looked miserable.

Sure, John was smirking and laughing at something Ronon had said. But something in his gaze was hollow. As hollow as Rodney felt.

Rodney set down his fork. “Why, exactly, do people think you’re sensitive?”

Lorne raised his eyebrows. “Who says I’m sensitive?”

Rodney gestured vaguely. “I’ve heard - talk.”

“From who?”

“From - women.”

Lorne huffed. “I suspect by _sensitive_ they mean _has a forked tongue and can breathe out his ears.”_

It took Rodney a moment to parse that statement. “Major -”

“I’m an officer and a gentleman, and a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.” But Lorne smirked.

“What? But you -”

“Learned to say _Does that feel good?_ instead of _Oh, fuck yeah.”_

Given what Rodney knew Lorne got up to with John (used to get up to with John? Rodney certainly hoped it was in the past), Rodney supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised at Lorne’s unfettered sexuality (which was, in retrospect, far less crass than so many Marines).

The tension between them was broken. Pressure released from a valve.

“Fine,” Rodney said. “I’ll take a chance.”

“Good,” Lorne said. Then he waggled his eyebrows. “So, how did you like my body?”

Rodney choked on a piece of pasta while Lorne laughed and laughed and laughed, then patted him on the back, then gave him the heimlich.

In the chaos that followed, Lorne managed to vanish, and it was John who ended up escorting Rodney back to his quarters.

“You all right?” John asked once Rodney was sitting on his bed.

“Fine,” Rodney said, still a little dazed.

“Okay. Good.” John turned to go.

Rodney caught his wrist.

John looked at him.

“Stay? Please?”

John sank down onto the edge of the bed beside him.

They looked at each other for a long time, neither of them sure what to say or who should say it first.

Finally, Rodney said, “Do you really think I’m beautiful?”

John said, “Yes,” and kissed him.

After that, Rodney never changed forms.

(Unless it was useful for a mission.)

(Only after Carson shouted at him a whole lot and ran a bunch of tests.)

(Sometimes, in the weekly databurst, Rodney asked Carter about Jonas Quinn, if anyone had ever heard from him again. He was still waiting for good news.)


End file.
